A Good Copper
by Mage of the Heart
Summary: Gene's doubting spirit forces Alex to reassure him of his policing ability, leading to an interesting end to the evening. GAlex. Rated M.


**I don't own the characters of Ashes to Ashes**

-

_Oh sweetheart, put that bottle down,_

_you've got too much talent_

_I see you through those bloodshot eyes,_

_There's a cure, you've found it_

_**Kelly Clarkson- I Do Not Hook Up**_

_---_

He was sat there, in his own little corner, eyes on the amber liquid that occupied his glass as he swirled it between two strong fingers, not worried about dropping it; he'd spent many years perfecting it, and he was well-practiced. He could keep swirling it when he was under the table with his eyes stuck shut and his head pounded with dehydration; it still wouldn't break.

His DI watched him from the other side of the room, seated alongside Ray, Chris and Shaz, all of whom were laughing at some obscenity Ray had just released, unaware of their lonely DCI seated across the room. Alex saw the tiredness in his eyes, the sunken bags that framed them as he stared into the amber abyss that was his depression. She was used to this by now; he drank himself into a stupor and woke up the next morning believing that all of his troubles had gone away, until he stepped into the office and realized that they were steadily multiplying. She could understand how he had become so dependent on his alcohol, but knew it was dangerous, that he was walking a thin line.

"Luigi, get me a bottle of this muck and put it on the tab," Gene's words were not slurred, but they didn't carry his usual accent, nor the confidence with which he prided himself. She sighed, watching as Luigi scurried away to collect Gene's drink, obeying completely despite the obvious look of reproval at his customers alcoholism. Standing up, Alex headed over to the abandoned table, noting that he didn't even bother to look up as she seated herself opposite him, nor as Luigi placed the bottle of whiskey in front of him with a politely muttered, "prego Signor Hunt."

He still wore his driving gloves, Alex noted, and she wondered how long he would stay before he decided to drunkenly return home, in the Quattro. It didn't bother her as much as it should that her DCI drank and drive; it wasn't so heavily frowned upon here and he'd never had an accident so far, but she did wonder when and if he would ever open up to her, or any other member of the team, instead of drowning his sorrows for hours and then trying to drive as fast as he could to escape them.

"Gene," she said softly, reaching a hand out to cover his spare one as it rested aside his beer-mat, "talk to me. Let me help you."

He let out a derisive snort. "Much as your psychotwattery is bound to astound me Bols, I've got a ship to sink and not enough whiskey to sink it with. Get your arse home and stop bothering the Gene Genie."

Alex sighed, withdrawing her hand and crossing her arms as she looked across at him. "You know, you repressing this isn't going to make it any easier and..."

"Bols, if you want to help, flash us your tits and get us a beer, but do not lecture me on different psychotwatty, fanny-fiddling while I'm 'aving a drink."

With a roll of her eyes, Alex crossed her legs and began avidly tapping her arm with her fingers, looking at him intently for several moments, waiting for him to respond. Up close, his eyes were shot with red and his skin had a grey pallor which doctors might have compared to death itself. His eyes looked sunken in his skull and the lines of his face were more pronounced than she had ever known them to be. There was a small cut just higher than his left eyebrow, which slightly matted the small amount of fridge which fell across it, tingeing its straw colour a brownish-red that looked to be fastly corroding into black. His overcoat was still thrown across his back, but was unfastened, so that the green shirt he'd worn that day was visible, unbuttoned by two, with the brown striped tie hanging loose and free from his collar, unknotted and casual. There was a look of uselessness about him, a sense that he'd given up, thrown in the towel and left everyone else behind. It was the most vulnerable that she'd ever seen him, and though it was heart-warming to know that even the hardest man she'd ever known could feel that vulnerable to human emotion, it terrified her just as equally.

"It's not your fault Gene," she said eventually, her voice matter-of-fact and monotonous, as though she were simply stating the colour of the grass.

Gene's grip on the glass tightened, and Alex resisted the urge to pull it out of his hands, deciding that perhaps if it were to shatter, he might receive a jolt back into reality. "Right, Bolly. And I'm Mother bloody-fucking Theresa!"

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" Alex hissed, leaning forward and smacking the table palm-down in an attempt to rouse a reaction from him; it didn't work, and she earned herself a sore hand in the process. "You can't save everyone all of the time Gene; that's not your job!"

This time, the glass did shatter, cutting through the leather of his driving glove and leaving a thin line that opened to bloodied flesh; he didn't appear to care. "No, Bols, my job is to keep bloody scum like fucking Gerry Ball off the streets to save little girls like Lilly Blake from getting tossed over the top of a bridge! My job, is to listen when my bloody team tells me to keep in a suspect, not throw him out because we've..."

"We had no evidence at that point!" Alex insisted, her voice rising slightly. "Is that what this is about? You'd put your job in jeopardy if you kept every person who looked a little shifty locked away for weeks! You said so yourself!"

His jaw was clenching, and she could see the vein in his neck throbbing as his tension rose. "You told me to keep that good-for-nothing sweaty ball-sack locked up on a hunch Bols, and then the sick bastard went out and raped another little girl who should've been safe on my watch!"

"It was just a hunch!" Alex insisted, trying to relinquish his guilt. "You weren't to know, nobody was!"

"Do you know how many times I told that yellow-bellied, cock-sucking nancy Tyler that..."

"Don't talk about your friend like that Gene," she whispered. He ignored her, and went on.

"Any idea how many times I told him that we were keeping a suspect on my hunch? Any idea how many times I told him to fuck his silly rulebook up the arse with a pencil before thinking I'd let someone I thought could be guilty go? Too many to count! Then you come up with a hunch and I shove it aside because I used to play cards with some bloke in a boozer fifteen years ago!"

"Gene, it's not your fault! Yes, Gerry Ball is a sick man, but we've got him now! You need to start thinking about the fact that he will never _ever_ touch a little girl like Lilly again! And you should be proud that you put that sick, deranged man behind bars for life!" Her hand reached for his but he jerked it back as though physically stung.

"Do you know what Lilly's Mum told me, when I went round?" His voice had cracked, lowered several notches so that Alex had to lean in to hear, which was probably preferable, since the rest of the team had been giving the pair odd looks for several minutes. "She told me I was a disgrace, letting bastards like 'im run round free when there's little girls like her Lilly playing on their bikes. And she's right Bols... she's right, and now all I can think is 'ow there's more blokes like him, more Gerry Balls who get the 'orn over little girls and don't think to hold back... It's a sick world Bolly... it's sick, and it's wrong, and we're a bunch of fucking nancy-twats for thinking there's anything we can do to help."

Alex felt tears prick at her eyes, and didn't bother to swipe them away. "You can Gene... you have... you're a good copper... the best kind..."

"Stop arse-kissing you toffee-nosed nitwit," he sniffed, throwing a large gulp of whiskey down his throat straight from the bottle.

"I'm not," she whispered softly. "You have saved girls like my Molly from a man who would ruin her life, if not end it completely. You've made sure that there's one less man in a situation where he can do that. You made sure that other men like him will get the message, some of them even get put off. You've saved lies Gene!" This time, when she reached for his hand, he didn't pull it away, but instead let it fall limp in her own, clasping her fingers lightly as he gulped. She saw his Adams apple move and couldn't resist a smile as she briefly squeezed his fingers in a warm gesture of friendship. He looked at her with his blue eyes, and she was shocked to find them glistening, though no tears had yet escaped him.

"You're brainwashing me with your psycho-bollucks," he said softly, "but I reckon I don't mind so much..." His other hand swiped at his eyes, and left a small trail of blood running from his eye to his cheek as his cut trailed over his skin. She gave a watery smile at him, sniffing slightly before murmuring a gentle reply.

"I do hope not," she whispered. "The Gene Genie in a brainwashed state is not one I'd like to witness." He nodded along, but couldn't think of anything to say as he tried his best to forget the rest of the day. "Come on," she said, "let's see if Luigi's got a first-aid kit you can clean that cut up with, it could be nasty..."

"There is no way that man is getting anywhere near my hand with medical equipment. He can't be trusted to bring me a whole bottle of drink, let alone clean a gash up." He shook his head and stood up, looking at her imploringly. "Looks like tonight's your night Bols," he managed his usual, lopsided smirk and she raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Oh, really? And how would that be exactly?" She stood up, wondering whether or not to drop his hand when suddenly he was only inches from her, his hand tightening its grip on hers as he intertwined their fingers.

"You get to dress me up like a dolly Bols," he waved his injured hand before her, then swore briefly, before reaffirming his eye contact with her. "Bloody lucky woman, you. Most people'd kill to be in your position."

"And what position is that?" she asked, not quite sure whether she was relieved he appeared to be more himself, or worried that he was making blatant attempts to get into her knickers.

"Well Bollyknickers, you're the nurse. Bend me as you please and dress me as you like, just make sure that nancy-boy Italian keeps his little foreign medi-kit to himself."

They went up to her flat, him not dropping her hand as they did so, resulting in questioning and suggestive glances from their colleagues as they left. Gene seemed unphased, and Alex told herself that the rumours regarding herself and her DCI were already so rife that it could hardly make much difference. She led him to the kitchen, where he gingerly pulled himself onto the unit, bringing his injury to eye level as Alex tentatively stood between his legs. He was still in his overcoat and gloves, and the sight of it was ever-so-slightly distracting; he seemed too big, too masculine, for her small kitchen, and she was unsure how to handle it.

"You need to lose the glove," she told him, leaning slightly to the left in order to reach into her cabinet and withdraw the first-aid kit. Gene stifled a soft groan as she displayed her cleavage quite clearly, his eyebrows shooting up into his fringe as she rustled in the cupboard. She let out a noise that told him quite clearly she'd found what she needed, then overbalanced, toppling against his leg as she searched to regain her footing. His good arm found itself around her waist, pulling her back to stand before him, closer than before, her front pressed to the counter as he gazed down at her with his face mere millimetres away from hers, arm still securely around her.

"Don't go tripping over your knickers Bolly, I can't be dealing with filling out the paperwork." She'd never before noticed how seductive the scent of whiskey and cigarettes could be when emanating off such a manly presence, and nor did she think she would ever consider it again, but the warmth of his breath, and the tangible smell that drifted into her own nostrils draped over her like honey.

"What paperwork?" she asked softly, resting the hand that was not clutching the small first aid box on her superior officers shoulder, stopping herself swaying and giving her the opportunity to regain her balance.

"The one that says my DI clocked herself with a tap while fannying about between my legs!" His voice was tinged with amusement, and she wasn't sure what else. Seduction? Possibly. Teasing? Well that was inevitable.

"I didn't even touch the tap!" She argued pointlessly, knowing that if he hadn't caught his arm around her waist she would most probably be nursing a concussion at this point. "Now let me see the cut before it scabs over and gets infected."

Gene grunted, slightly annoyed that their flirtations had reverted to what could only be Alex's maternal instinct. Her fingers peeled the leather glove off his injured hand and he hissed as he felt something move. "Shit," he gasped, moving to bring his free hand to cover the injury. Alex slapped it away.

"Stop. There's probably a piece of glass caught in it, just hang on a second and run your hand under the cold water... I'll be right back." She moved herself from between his thighs, twisting the tap on before scurrying out of the room in a hurry. He grunted, placing the cut under the water and feeling his eyes widen as the chilling liquid numbed his hand. He pulled it back instantly, rubbing his wrist to work some circulation back into them. When Alex returned, she raised an eyebrow at him, and he knew he'd done something wrong. "What now Bols? I did what you told me. I put my hand in that frigging water. What now?"

"How long did you leave it in?" Alex asked, a smile breaking across her lips as his eyebrows knitted together across the top of his forehead.

"A few seconds... it's clean. It's fine. Stop fussing over me like a bloody matron Bolly; I'm a big boy now you know! I have had a few cuts in my day."

Alex nodded, walking over and taking his wrist, forcing it back under the water without warning. Gene grimaced and glared at her. "You a sadist, Bollyknickers?"

"Not to my knowledge," she smiled, moving his hand slightly so that the water cleansed it more thoroughly. "Why do you ask?"

"You seem to be enjoying my pain is all." He looked down at his hand, only then noticing how large and deep the gash was, and frowning. "Bollucks."

Alex sighed, holding his hand still as she procured the tweezers she had just disappeared in order to find. Gene recoiled instantly. "Bloody 'ell Bolls, what you doing?" She rolled her eyes.

"I'm getting that piece of glass out," she said, pointing towards the glistening shard protruding from his wound, "before it heals up and you have to have an amputation because your hand got infected."

He grimaced as she placed the tweezers around the glass, looking away instinctively. Alex was amused to find that the great Manc Lion was slightly queasy at the sight. "You're not scared of blood surely?" She teased.

Gene shook his head. "Blood, no. A ruddy great piece of glass cutting out of me own hand? Not my favourite sight Bols, I'll admit." She laughed softly, extracting the glass carefully and placing it on the draining board, rinsing Gene's hand once more before reaching for the first aid box and withdrawing a bandage and tape. He didn't say or do anything as she tenderly wrapped the bandage around his hand, securing it with a round of tape in several directions to prevent it falling off. She frowned as she looked at her handiwork. She wasn't a qualified first-aider by any means, but she hoped it would do the job. "There," she said, setting his hand down and looking up at Gene, his blue eyes piercing her and setting her stomach flipping. They said nothing, and Alex tore her gaze away from his eyes to the matted, bloodied hair above his eyebrow.

"Do you want me to clean that one, too?" she asked, pointing to it briefly. Gene looked as though he were about to say no, but he thought better of it. Her hands were soothing, and he quite liked having her stood so close, having an excuse to relax and breathe in the scent of her perfume.

"I won't complain if you do, Bols, you know me." She smiled, turning on the hot tap and reaching for a wad of cotton wool, holding it under the warm water until it was saturated, before withdrawing it, squeezing it slightly to get rid of the excess water. She looked up at him, her other hand brushing the hair away from his wound whilst she brought the cotton up to it. Gene didn't move, allowing her to dab slowly at the cut, the warm water stinging slightly, though he refused to complain, enjoying the feel of her hand on his face. His eyes closed as he smelt her perfume on her wrists, stronger than before since it was so close to his nose. He resisted turning his face into her wrist to savour it, instead allowing her to continue with her actions and settling into the calm of simply enjoying the scent in his nostrils and the touch of her cool hands.

Alex finished, discarding the cotton wool but keeping her hand on his face, letting his fringe fall back over his wound and trailing her hand down to cup his cheek. "All better," she whispered, her other hand resting on his shoulder. He blinked out of his reverie, meeting her eyes and curling up one side of his lip in as much as a smile as she could ever hope to receive from him. His recently bandaged hand came up to cover hers, holding it against his cheek for a few moments longer, before he whispered to her in a very small voice.

"Say it again, Bolly." It wasn't an order, so much as a desperate plea for help. She frowned.

"All better?" she repeated, confused. He smiled, shaking his head.

"Nah, the other thing... I need to hear it again... please, Bols?" His eyes held hers for several more moments, then she smiled in recognition.

"You're a good copper, Gene." Her fingers gently caressed his cheek and he sighed, dropping his hand from on top of hers and turning his cheek to press his lips lightly into her wrist, his hands coming to rest on her waist.

"Cheers, Bolly," he murmured into her skin, feeling her pulse beneath his lips. He shivered at the intimacy of the moment, feeling Alex's body still beneath his fingertips. She was nervous and anticipant and she didn't know what to expect. He didn't move for several moments, then suddenly he turned his head, leaning forward to rest it on her shoulder, closing his eyes to distract himself from the fact her breasts were heaving as her lungs inhaled at an increasing rate. Tentatively, Alex brought a nervous, quivering hand up to his head, burying it in his hair and gently massaging his skull. He breathed gently and she felt the heat of his breath on her chest, causing her to quake and grip slightly tighter onto him. When she'd relaxed slightly, when the pulse that rested beneath his ear had quieted slightly, he opened his eyes and said gruffly, "nice tits, Bollyknickers."

She gasped, pulling back and looking at him in shock. "I thought your eyes were closed!" Gene gripped lopsidedly.

"They were." He slid from the counter and groaned as he put too much weight on his recently injured hand. Alex didn't show much sympathy as she crossed her arms and glared daggers in his direction. "Oh don't get your panties in a knot you silly tart, it was meant to be a compliment!"

She raised an eyebrow and he sighed. "Can't do bloody right by you, can I? Bloody women. Right, the Gene Genie's going back downstairs for a bloody anaesthetic." He brushed past her abruptly, avoiding her eyes and heading for the front door, leaving Alex confused and shocked in his wake.

----

Gene sat alone, since the rest of the team had long left, with a glass of whiskey swirling between his fingers. He'd left his glove in Alex's flat, and he was contemplating going back for it and apologising for his abrupt exit. He stayed downstairs, barely drinking at all, much to Luigi's worry, it would seem, and replaying the last few hours over and over in his head. It wasn't that he'd suddenly received any shock information; he'd known for a long time that Alex Drake was a cursed form of alcohol that was so intoxicating he only had to breathe it in. It was the fact that for those few moments, those minutes of perpetual heaven, he was almost convinced she was as intoxicated as he himself. He'd felt her pulse quicken beneath his lips, felt her cool hand stroking his skin so intimately that it felt almost natural... He groaned to himself, remembering the softness of her skin, the way she'd been so tender with him... He wanted to go back upstairs and kiss the shit out of her, and bully for her if she thought he was overreacting. The fact was, he'd never known anything like the relief that had swept through his body at her reassurances. It was like receiving praise for his keepy-ups from his moody football coach at age four. He needed her approval, needed to know that she, of all people, believed in him...

He saw Luigi looking at him and rolled his eyes as the Italian directed his eyes at him, then raised them to look upwards, as though telling him to go back to Alex. Gene could have slapped him, but then realized that perhaps the old romantic of an Italian was right.

---

He knocked on her door impatiently, feeling awkward and terrified as he dug into his pocket and clutched the pen he found there as he listened to her slamming around inside. For a moment, he considered running back down the stairs and burying himself at the bottom of the whiskey bottle... his consideration was cut short as she wrenched the door open and looked at him in annoyance. "What?"

She'd reached the end of her tether. He inhaled, wondering how to apologise. "Say it again." He said pleadingly, seeking one final boost of confidence before he made any sort of apology to his DI.

"Gene, go home. I'm not in the mood for this anymore just..." He interrupted her, repeating himself.

"Please, say it again!" He sounded like a child, and at that moment he didn't care. There was room for maturity, a time and a place for being a man, but right now he felt the least manly person in existence. She met his eyes and gave a reluctant sigh.

"Alright, you're a good copper. Now go home." She moved to shut the door, but his arm shot out, faster than he would have believed possible, to jar it open. He didn't care that she had sounded the least enthused and meaningful that he'd ever known her; she'd said it, and that was all he needed. He stepped closer to her, cupping the back of her head with his good, still gloved hand, whilst the bandaged, gloveless one shot to her waist, pulling her close so that he could press his lips to hers. Alex's hand, which was gripping the door prior to his assault of her mouth, clamped onto his shoulder to stop herself falling. He pulled her against his chest, feeling her nails dig into his overcoat as he coaxed her mouth open gently. She froze briefly, then suddenly something switched on, and she responded with such enthusiasm that he nearly fell backwards into the hall. Instead, he leant her back against the doorframe, the hand on the back of her head wrapping around her back as he hoisted her up so that her mouth was more accessible and she was lifted a few centimetres from the ground. Her legs instinctively went round his back, hands sinking themselves into his hair in an effort to pull his mouth closer, to gain better access as his tongue teased along her bottom lip. When her mouth opened, a soft groan escaped his lips as he responded instinctively, slipping his tongue inside to gently caress her own, before capturing her lower lip between his teeth, nibbling oh so lightly as his good hand came around to caress her thigh, pressing himself against her to keep her upright against the wall while he rubbed teasing circles into her skin. She was practically whimpering as she pulled her head away from his, looking deep into his eyes.

For a few moments, Gene thought she was going to slap him; she looked shocked and unreasonably nervous and he gulped, waiting for the collision of her hand with his face. When it didn't come, he blinked and looked at her imploringly. She was gasping, her breath short, hands still in his hair when she managed to speak. "Inside," she gasped, "Luigi might come up."

Not wanting to argue, he slid his arms back around her, holding her to him and not allowing her feet to reacquaint themselves with the floor as he carried her into the flat, his foot shutting the door behind them before he lead them both to the sofa, laying her down and finding himself in a horizontal lock with his DI, her legs anchored around his waist and pinning him to her. Gene met her eyes and raised his eyebrows, asking her silent questions as she stared back at him. Neither said anything for several minutes, then he leant forward, his lips close to her ear as he felt her body against his, warm and inviting. "Bolls, I'd really rather you didn't spread your legs if it isn't an invitation."

Alex smiled, hand going to his cheek in order to look him in the eye once more. "And if it is?" Gene's mouth went dry, his eyes widened, and he was sure she felt his erection becoming even more prominent against her.

"If it is, Bolls, you better tell any poncy, nancy boyfriends you've got 'anging about that the positions filled and they can go home and reacquaint themselves with their hands." He pretended not to notice the shiver that swept over her body as he spoke, but was silently pleased with himself. He wasn't going to do it if she had any doubts he was good enough for the job.

"No nancy's, Guv," she whispered, pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth. "Just you."

"Glad to hear it," he said gruffly. "Now what the devil are you wearing, 'cause it looks to me like a bloody corset!

It wasn't a corset, Alex smirked, but a very tight and rather flattering top which managed to make her look ten pounds thinner and still made her breasts look good. It wasn't a corset, but she had no need to tell him that as he plundered her mouth with his tongue and his hands made quick work of the fastenings behind her back. In no time, he'd thrown it into the corner of the room and was pressing his mouth to the curves of her breasts, breathing heavily as he attempted to stop himself ripping open his trousers and pounding into her. He wanted it to last, because as far as Gene was concerned, if this was a one-off occurrence, he wanted to have it ingrained on both of their memories for years to come. And if it happened to be the first of many... well, he wanted her to know he was more than satisfactory. In fact, as he'd told Sam all those years ago, he had a famed prowess as a lover, and Alex Drake, of all people, should be witnesses to it.

His hand slid beneath the fabric of her lacy blue bra, kneading and caressing her breast as he continued his way downwards, passing over her flat stomach with feather light kisses raining on each square inch of skin, before coming to the waistband of her jeans. He looked up at Alex, her eyes shining with desire, her lips parted as she looked at him, and he knew there was no objection on her part. With a small upturn of his mouth, he brought a hand to her zip, sliding it sensuously down before expertly popping the button with one hand, his other still busy caressing her breast. He moved back up to her mouth without another word, pressing his lips to hers and fiercely dominating her tongue as she rubbed herself against his own crotch in frustration for his ministrations being cut short. He smiled into her, hands reaching behind her to unclasp the bra before slipping it off her shoulders and discarding it without care. At that point, he had to stop, propping himself up to look at her spread out in front of him, naked from the waist upwards, with her jeans unbuttoned to reveal the second part of her lingerie set, thin lace of a blue which contrasted so perfectly with her light skin he nearly came.

"Bloody 'ell Bolls. They really are great tits!" He bent down, mouth capturing a nipple as he sucked, hands tracing patterns in the skin of her stomach as she shivered and writhed beneath him, her hands holding him there for several moments, as though afraid he would pull away; she needn't worry, for right then his whole universe revolved around the tight bud that he held between his lips. His other hand caught her other breast, tweaking and squeezing it as she moaned.

"Gene," she gasped after several moments of his continued delicious torture. "Jeans... get them off." He smirked, pulling away and placing his hand beneath her waistband, sliding both jeans and knickers from her body, slowed down only by the fact he had forgotten she still wore her shoes and socks. Eventually, she was naked, and he was literally aching for release as he looked at her. She was bloody perfect. She went to sit up as he stared, but he placed his hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back down.

"I hope you taste as good as you look Bolly..." His mouth fell to her ankle, working his way lightly up over her calf and thigh until he reached the triangle of brown hair and groaned loudly. "Oh god, I've dreamt about this..." he traced a finger lightly up her leg, pausing slightly to remove the glove which he'd forsaken to remove.

"Leave it on..." she whispered softly, and he groaned in arousal, not even waiting to clarify it before he slid his gloved-finger between her folds, parting them gently as he felt her heat envelop him, even through the leather of his glove. "Bleeding nora!" She let out a moan as he slid repeatedly in and out, her hips moving to meet him.

"More," she murmured, "I need more Gene... please."

He wanted to make a cocky quip, a quick-witted remark, but he couldn't, his brain wasn't functioning properly, and all he could comprehend was the fact she was lying naked before him, with his gloved hand moving in an out of her. In the end, he simply hoisted her legs over his shoulders, kneeling between them on the carpet and pressing his lips into her heat, his tongue rubbing sensuously along her folds and caressing her clit teasingly. Alex moaned, tremors going through her body as she sat up, hands on his head, back resting against the back of the sofa as she gasped, directing his head so that he caressed her over and over. Gene's hands gripped her hips tight as he held her in place, loving the taste of her, the responses of her body, and the sound of her voice as she whimpered in pleasure... He teased her a little, circling her sensitive nub briefly, feeling her tremble on the cusp of climax and wanting to prolong it as long as possible. She was begging for release and he loved it. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard someone so lustful and wanton... finally, he relented, taking her clit between his lips and briefly sucking and nibbling before her whole body flew out of her control. Her hips bucked and she went into spasm, hands digging into his skull as his own fingertips, slightly less dangerous than hers given that one hand was gloved and that the free hand had nails which were two inches shorter, dug into her hips, holding her tight until she came down. He pulled back, licking his lips briefly before looking up to see her eyes hooded, her brow glistening with post-orgasm sweat. He stood up, sitting himself beside her on the sofa and pulling her mouth to his, leaning backwards so that his head rested on the cushion and she could lay above him. She tasted herself on his lips and moaned into his mouth, hands falling to his chest and unbuttoning the overcoat he hadn't yet removed. She let out a small giggle of amusement into his mouth, and he frowned pulling her head back and raising his eyebrows skywards. "Something funny Bols?"

Alex giggled, leaning forwards to run her tongue over the shell of his ear, then whispering seductively. "It's rather sexy getting licked out by a fully clothed, still gloved policeman." Gene gulped, hands moving to her hips as he shifted her so that she was straddling him.

"It's making me pretty randy having a naked DI on top of my still-clothed goods, too." And it was. Her naked thighs contrasted beautifully with the black of his trousers and the grey of his shirt. All he could think about was the fact that if he didn't wash this suit a hundred times over, he'd get a hard-on at the thought of her on top of it.

Alex's fingers undid his coat, pushing it away from his shoulders, though he had to sit up slightly to shrug it off. She started on the shirt, giving that his tie was already undone and simply dangled around his neck, and continued until half of the buttons were undone and his chest was in view. Blonde hair speckled his skin and she pressed a soft kiss to his skin, just above the heart, feeling its heavy pulse and becoming more entranced by it. He remained still, watching with amusement, which then turned to arousal, as she kissed and caressed her way down his chest and came to his trousers which, thankfully, she undid quickly, pushing them and his boxers down to reveal his throbbing erection.

It was impressive, to say the least. She'd known he boasted about sexual prowess and a well sized endowment, but had always put it down to male boasting, assuming that, were she ever to see it it would be average or less. It wasn't. She looked for several moments, feeling Gene's eyes on her but not caring until he spoke.

"Alright, so I'm not a bloody patriot with a Prince Albert but it's not that bad is it?" It was humorous, but she could sense his unease and immediately bent down to press a soft kiss to his tip. He hissed and she smiled up at him.

"I was just marvelling," she assured him, hand moving to caress him, warm and confident as she slid it up and down with a varying amount of pressure, making him groan beneath her.

"Get up here and kiss me you dozy tart, before I swear so loud Luigi comes a-knocking!" Alex giggled, shifting so that she lay alongside him, hand still surrounding him and repeatedly caressing as he turned his head to kiss her with fervour. One hand wrapped around her waist whilst the other covered her own as it worked up and down his length, groaning into her mouth when she slid it down to cup his testicles. He hissed, feeling himself tighten. "I'm gunna blow, Bols," he groaned. "You better stop..."

Alex smiled. "I'm not one to quit," she said, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before sliding back down to him, hands moving slightly lower as she bent to completely cover him with her mouth. Gene swore loudly, but neither of them cared. His hands held her in place as he felt white-hot heat shooting through him at his release. She swallowed it without a second thought, delighting in the intimacy of the moment before allowing him to pull her back up to him, her head settling into the crook of his neck.

"You know that's illegal in some countries," Gene said gruffly. Alex raised her eyebrows.

"Really?" Her arm slid over his chest as she closed her eyes to listen to him.

"Yeah... I'd have to arrest you in places like... like..." he thought for a moment, "places like that, anyway." Alex giggled.

"I suppose you would. A police officer breaking the law is a highly punishable offence." She grinned as he kissed her forehead lightly in a completely un-Gene display of affection. Then again, she reasoned, the whole of tonight had been completely out of character for both of them.

"Punishable by death..." he growled softly.

"Death by what, officer?" Alex looked up at him with a glint in her eye and he shifted so that their bodies met, hip-to-hip and chest-to-chest.

"Death by the Gene Genie." He pressed his newly revived erection against her and kissed her fiercely.

"In that case," Alex replied, grinning, "I plead guilty as charged!"

-----

It was an hour later, as she sat astride him with her eyes closed and her body covered in sweat, his face pressed against her chest as she moved, that he decided it was now or never. Hands going to her waist, he gathered her close and flipped them over, nearly overbalancing and toppling from the narrow sofa. She shrieked and clutched onto him, legs tightening around his back and making him groan in arousal.

"Bolly," he growled, "you're making it difficult to move here!" Her legs loosened and he began to move inside her, slowly, wanting to savour every moment before he ruined it for good. His mouth moved softly and tenderly over hers as he treasured each stroke, each brush of their lips and tongues. Alex moaned beneath him, apparently enjoying the slow pace of their actions. He sighed, hand moving between them to tease her clit until she was trembling. It was then his mouth moved to her ear, breath heavy as he whispered to her.

"Tell me you want more than this," he said, his voice pleading. She nodded softly.

"I do," she whispered back. "God I do, Gene, please. More." Her hands stroked his now bare back as she pushed her hips to his. "Please, I need more... harder."

Gene sighed, mouth caressing the pulse in her neck as he sped up. He spoke again, whispering in her ear. "More than this... more than tonight... Bols, tell me you want me." Her whole body stiffened in orgasm at that moment, and he nearly swore as they both let out identical cries of pleasure, her body milking him of release. He wanted to ask her again, to make sure she'd heard him, but he couldn't. He wasn't brave enough to ask her again, for fear she'd reject him.

---

She had heard him. She'd heard him, and she'd wondered if he was joking. It was Gene Hunt. The Gene Genie. The Manc Lion. The Guv. Her boss. The man who completely disregarded the rules, who was everything she had always loathed in men; sexist, angry, violent, alcohol dependent and a well-known womanizer. What if this was just another game for him? They had to work together. He was her DCI and nothing would change that. But she wanted him. She wanted to be with him. For all the negativities, for all of his quips and his lack of respect, he was... well, perfect, really. He was funny, attractive in an unconventional way, strong, good-hearted... and she knew deep down that tonight wouldn't have happened if he didn't want her too; he might like women, but not enough to risk the safety of the people of London. Eventually, as she came down from the throes of orgasm, she twisted her head to his, seeing his face turned away in the direction of the sofa. She stroked his hair gently and pressed a kiss into his shoulder.

"I do want you Gene... I want you for... for as long as you'll have me, really." He didn't move for several moments, and she worried that she'd misunderstood the question. Finally though, he turned to her, his sex-mussed hair flopping lightly onto his forehead.

"What if I want you forever, Bollyknickers?" His voice was grating, and she melted at his words. With a kiss to his nose, she smiled.

"Forever's good for me." And she realized that it was. Molly was safe, and right now, there seemed no way of return. Here, with Gene, she could keep on living, or rather, live again. She smiled to herself, and Gene, with the first true smile she'd seen from him, gathered her close and shifted slightly on the sofa.

"Maybe we should go to bed," Gene muttered eventually, twisting his neck to prevent the cramp from becoming overbearing.

"Sofa's fine," she murmured. He didn't disagree, merely rolling his eyes and shifting so that his weight didn't crush her. They lay in companionable silence, his fingers stroking her hair, before she looked up into his eyes. "You really are a good copper, Gene."

He smiled, and she decided that the look suited him. The lines of his face seemed to disappear and he lost twenty years in a single moment. "You're not too bad yourself Bols. Now shut your gob and go to sleep."

**MMMMM Gene Genie!!**


End file.
